Sanctuary
by Rozzy0
Summary: After the battle, Neville returns to the Room of Requirement, but will it still work after the fire? Written for the "Descriptive Challenge" on HPFC. Oneshot.


_Why hello there. What is this, a new story? About NEVILLE? What is this madness?_

_This is a little piece written for Emery Wright's Descriptive Challenge on the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum. The challenge was to write a fanfic entirely without dialogue, and I used the prompts "smoke" and "to devour"._

_I had a good time writing this. I know I've written stuff without dialogue before (quite a few chapters in Across the Table were description only) so it wasn't exactly challenging, but I'm happy with the way it turned out._

_By the way, I have not forgotten my promise to write a sequel to ATT. It's coming, I assure you!_

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Sanctuary

_I need a place to sleep_

_I need a place to sleep_

_I need a place to sleep_

That familiar rhythm of footsteps along the corridor: walk and turn, walk and turn, walk and turn.

The door appears before him, as it has done a hundred times before. Is it just his imagination, or are its edges blackened and charred?

He reaches for the handle cautiously, half expecting to be burned, but the metal is cool beneath his fingertips. Hermione has told him only moments ago what happened to the Room, has implored him to come and sleep in Gryffindor Tower, but he had to come here. The Room has kept him safe for months, and now he must make sure it is still working. It's almost as though he's checking whether another of his friends has survived this war.

As he opens the door, a few wisps of black smoke escape, curling towards the ceiling before they dissipate. The acrid smell fills his nose as he takes a step, his eyes struggling to find purchase in the darkness.

He's afraid of what he might see. What kind of damage would the ferocious Fiendfyre have inflicted? Could the Room withstand it, or would it have been completely destroyed, devoured? Would it be stuck as the Room of Hidden Things forever, filled with the smouldering remains of its accumulated clutter—or worse, whatever was left of Vincent Crabbe?

_I need light_, he thinks, but nothing happens.

A whispered spell; a beam of light struggles to pierce the thick, drifting smoke that surrounds him. It seems to be clearing, through, escaping through the open door, and soon he can see the space that the Room has become. It is a square chamber, no more than ten paces across, its stone walls scorched and scarred, its ceiling black with soot.

_It's empty_, he thinks, confused, but no sooner has this thought crossed his mind does he see an object in the middle of the floor.

It is something wrapped in a white cloth; a figure, he realises as he takes a wary step closer. He doesn't need to look underneath to know who it is.

He dearly wants to ignore this. His whole body feels heavy with pain and exhaustion. He doesn't want to deal with this unpleasant discovery until later, maybe much later. But the Room does not seem to be able to answer his thoughts—and he knows he would not be able to sleep with a corpse in the room. And, after all, he has conveyed so many of the dead today; what is one more?

So, wearily, he points the glowing wandtip at the body, causes it to rise from where it rests on the floor. The dead Death Eaters have been laid off the Entrance Hall, he knows, so directs his feet back through the door, towards the place that signified so much sorrow, and so much joy.

The familiar stretch of wall is blank when he returns, so he sets off again in that same old sequence of walking and turning.

_I need a place to sleep_

_I need a place to sleep_

_I need a place to sleep_

The door appears, dependable as always, but he is afraid that this is the extent of its magic, that the rest of its powers have been destroyed. He turns the handle, his stomach tight with fear for the Room that has become his saviour, his friend.

The first thing he sees is a flash of red; a scarlet banner, complete with lion rampant, hangs on the pristine wood-panelled wall, lit by the warm glow of a dozen lamps. But it is the sight of a hammock suspended from the ceiling that is most welcome to him, and he can't help but grin as he shuts the door.

How could he have doubted it? The Room was there for him when his life seemed most bleak, and now it has transformed into the same hideout that saved him from the vicious Carrows. Now that its last occupant has been able to leave, the Room is ready once again to serve.

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_So yeah. I hope that made sense. I'd appreciate feedback, so please take the time to review!_


End file.
